A Lost Gain
by Angry young girl
Summary: A war gone right. A want gone wrong.


**A Lost Gain**

"Is this your choice?"

The dark mark flashes ominously on the alabaster skin.

"Yes."

Narcissa doesn't want to believe that anyway, therefore she like so many failed attempts once again tries, to turn him around from the path that already possess her husband and sister.

It is a war, and she is not ready enough to lose her only heir.

"Draco, you are only nineteen! You can't possibly fight and not…. I can't let you!"

 _Die._

"But mother, I have to."

"No, you don't." Narcissa silencios the room. "Look, I have a villa in rural France. It's heavily warded and concealed to the eyes of outsiders. Even your father doesn't know about it. If we can run away and…"

"Whose side are you on?"

She falters.

"Mother?"

A boy, just a mere boy with a ghostly beauty she nurtured and boasted about. A boy of an age that should know innocence, not death.

However, now there stands a man.

"Why do you think I'm doing this? Nobody _wishes_ to fight in a war."

A man with ruthless drive, a man free of virtue, a man grown up too early.

"Because I am _not_ gonna die."

Narcissa struggles not to flinch.

Something is amiss.

"But there's always a possibility! Wars are unpredictable…"

"But you are not. As I know, you will protect me. _Won't you mother?"_

She hardly notices an off edge in his query.

" _At any cost._ Draco, you are my only son…"

He smiles.

"Then, die for me."

The darkness she feels in his soul convey it is not a _choice._

"When the time comes."

* * *

2 Years After:

"Lucius."

The wheelchair turns to the remote voice.

"Draco."

A pair of grey eyes takes in the hunched, older, injured form of a previous death-eater, the person who used to be a father, also an ex-follower of Voldemort.

As now he follows _him._

"How are things going?"

Things that harry Potter did not let the dark lord succeed in.

"They are getting ready."

To do the damage the-boy-who-lived cannot recover from.

"How many?"

Lucius coughs uncomfortably, "it seems Azkaban is not that easy to…"

"How many?"

"35."

And the fallen silence is not wanted, at all.

"Did you love mother?"

Lucius wishes to get away further from the shadow before him.

"You _know_ I always have."

"And," Draco twirls the photo stand, a magical remaining piece of lost family, "you _remember_ her dying words?"

He can never forget.

Neither the screams that her own sister tore from her for saving Potter, nor the bloody death that she willingly welcomed in order to save their son.

Only if she could see how that cost was for nothing…

And her words.

" _ **Promise me you will protect him. You are all he's got so promise me! You will protect him even if you have to kill again, or die."**_

For her, he had no choice.

"I do."

"Well then," the stony tenor reminds him that there is no escaping from that vow, or this life until _his_ job is done. "You know what you have to do."

"… _ **even if you have to kill again, or die."**_

Lucius nods.

"When the time comes."

* * *

1 Week Later:

"Why is he staring at you?"

Hermione indifferently shrugs. "Who knows, drop it Harry."

Though she is unable to do the same.

It was one month after the war when they properly graduated from Hogwarts, helping it rebuild as far as possible. After the graduation began the post-war celebration, which the golden-trio couldn't cope well with but bore, as there was still much to establish and restore.

Now 2 and half years have gone by, with Ron being a recognized quiddich player of his dream team Chudely Cannons, Harry and Hermione choosing what people thought inevitable for them to be, aurors. One of the bests in the whole ministry, as well as in the magical world.

All these time never did Malfoy once step out.

Not in the graduation, not in war recognition, or anywhere else he was seen even though his family was forgiven in the trial, for supporting Harry Potter.

It's been only 6 months that he finally showed up, with the title of the youngest C.E.O of an over-loaded Malfoy Enterprise.

As annoying as it was to see his face in almost every witch weekly magazine, it was a little bit alarming that he could achieve so much in so less time.

They first met in an official ministry gala where Malfoy seemed to be, a donor, 3 months before. No words, no drinks, they only bowed. Since then, his eyes did not stop following her.

She at first did not pay any heed.

When she did, she refused to acknowledge, which is why she waves off anything that relates to him.

He was just a fellow classmate, and like many others _is_ a survivor.

"Let's dance."

Hermione gladly lets Harry take her to the spacious dance floor that is nearly packed. She sees Ron with Hannah Abbott, smiling at them and twirling where the next she sees Ginny, with her fiance Cormac Macleggen.

She would never know why Harry and the redhead Wesley broke up right after the graduation. Although it was amicable, they barely spoke with each other. Also, she was relieved because it didn't seem to affect Ron, or their friendship as she thought it might.

War _do_ change people.

"May I cut in?"

Harry is surprised. Hermione unsettled. And the person asking this is ridiculously calm.

The worst part is that everyone is watching, _with interest._

"Sure."

Hermione tenses, knowing Harry isn't the one at fault feeling her hand lead in his.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

Before complains can leave her lips, his arms grab her lean waist in a coarse way, which also abandons any room between their bodies.

She glares, and he savors it, her discomfort.

"It's been a while."

Whether Draco purposely breaths in her face or not, Hermione is not willing to stand his nonsense.

"You are holding me _too_ tight."

He gives her a perfect twirl, smashing their chests as she comes back in those arms, hands feasting on her supple skin.

"Am I? And," long fingers dig into her hips, "now?"

Whatever he is playing at, she does not like it the least bit.

"Okay, enough. Excuse me."

He does not free her despite the signal.

" _Malfoy."_

" _Go out with me."_

Widened brown eyes narrow into slits.

"I said _let go."_

Draco grips Hermione tighter. "And you heard _what I said."_

"This is not funny."

The longer she stays, the worse tomorrow's pictures are to be. She is unwilling to make a scene, then again, she is strictly against the idea of making to the front page, _with him._

"Let go…"

"Malfoy."

Hermione barely hides the sound of relief when Harry comes to her rescue.

She is also appalled when a pair of cold lips stamp a tricky kiss on her cheek, taking advantage of her unguarded state.

"Till next time."

Countless cameras flash.

* * *

Next morning, she is downright vexed.

Of course, the reason lays on every desks, in the first side of every tabloids to be precise.

She slams the door shut and stops.

Her vein thumps.

"Morning."

The sight of _him_ standing by her table, in her cabin, riles her already inflamed mind.

" _You."_ She clenches her teethes. "Every single newspaper, has _this_ crap." The Daily Prophet of her hand makes a harsh contact with his impeccable suit on her throw. "What were you thinking?"

He thinks she looks ravishing.

"And what was that _go out_ part? Some kind of payback or dirty joke? We aren't seventeen anymore!"

"I am not a man of _free hour._ Malfoy Inc. is an international corporation unlike _this,"_ he points out her office with an icy sneer. "And you are _still_ a mudblood."

As revolting as it is, his goddamn bigotry outlives the war even now.

"Get out. Who let you in here! Get out!"

"Don't scream, Granger." He mockingly drawls. "You want to inform everybody I am _with_ you?"

What? The implication is nasty, but….

"How did you get in here?" Sure her wards aren't supposed to let anyone just like this…

''Isn't that simple? Magic, _of course."_ His snooty superiority boosts up at her indignation, "but the question would be _why, not how."_

"I don't care." She marches up to him in open fury. "Leave. Right now."

Be that as it may, Draco kisses Hermione.

Before she can realize she should run or scream or use wand, he has her jammed against the desk, trapping both hands and body snugly in his.

Demanding, forceful, compelling, his strong lips takes from her callously, intensely, viciously.

Hermione tastes metallic tang of blood as Draco bites and gnaws, sucking and kissing with his teeth and tongue.

"Silencio."

Those words vibrate against her neck by the wet kisses Draco forces on her pulse, amid nibbling a purple bruise, drawing an angry yell from Hermione that reaches no ears.

Much to her horror and his liking, she doesn't miss the carnal groan he lets out.

"I have something to tell you."

Livid tears gather at the corner of her eyes, with relief at his taking off the spell, with weariness when he charms the whole cabin soundproof.

"How about a new _war?"_

He smells her confusion, distress, anxiety, enjoying every bits and pieces of it.

"What if," Draco bends Hermione to the rear, licking her already kissed jaw, temple, neck, " _what if_ another war is to take place?"

She grows defenselessly rigid.

"What?" Her out-of-focus mind tries to process and digest what she just heard.

"Wouldn't you, _the brightest witch of our age,_ wanna find out?"

Somewhere out there, somewhere in the middle of no off-beams and regular routines, there is _somebody_ planning to brew one more war all over again?

Is that what he is trying to say?

"Just _how_ do you know _this,_ Malfoy?"

Hermione flinches when Draco indifferently twirls her locks. "I don't come _cheap_ Granger, nor my sources."

She cannot help but grimace. "You disgust me."

"Petrificas Totalus."

Releasing her body, he swiftly removes her wand from her robe, also feeling her up.

"Give it back, you ass!"

"I _can_ break it, you know."

His looks are gritty enough to tell that he _will_ , if she displeases him further.

"Malfoy, look, we can talk about this….."

"I can tell you about it."

Draco jabs Hermione harshly with her own wand.

"I can tell you _who_ it is."

Her natural reaction is not to believe a single word.

The following statement however, turns the gear on her head.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is _still_ missing, after all. 2 years, and ministry doesn't have a clue."

He directs an impenetrable gaze at her edgy, helpless form.

"Can the Wesley's _afford_ another war? Can _your_ Potter _survive_ the next time? Or can _you,_ allow one because of your stubborn _mudblood_ pride?"

Draco is slightly impressed when a deadly hex is thrown his way that he narrowly blocks, as the witch he cornered minutes ago has freed herself with obvious auror skills.

" _Don't underestimate me,_ you may regret it."

Her chest heaves in stormy rage, making him harden in an anonymous desire.

"You will be the one regretting Granger, if you don't listen what I have to say."

All response vanished, Draco looks as forbidding as he sounds.

" _You will."_

* * *

" _ **I can tell you about it."**_

How is it that he can claim so confidently, whereas she searched her ass off and the result is a big zero?

" _ **What if another war is to take place?"**_

Sitting at the Burrow, among the only family she have had, idea of a chaos seems unwelcoming.

"Hermione, dear your plate is empty! That won't do!" Molly fills her bowl with bacon and pastry.

" _ **Can the Wesley's afford another war?"**_

The vacant chair of George imitates the point of what he meant.

Should she speak to Harry?

" _ **Can your Potter survive the next time?"**_

He is beaming with Ron and Charlie about something.

That smile alone is what she fought the war for, how can Hermione possibly let it be snatched?

" _ **Or can you, allow one because of your stubborn mudblood pride?"**_

Stubborn she is, _not stupid_.

" _ **You will be the one regretting Granger, if you don't listen what I have to say."**_

A smile cracks on her lips as the table bursts out laughing over a silly prank pulled on Percy.

And she makes up her mind.

* * *

The eager anticipation to get this over with flatters in her stomach.

It better _not_ be a mistake.

"Hello, Miss Granger."

The study Hermione has been waiting in, is now occupied by one man she didn't look ahead to meeting today, or ever.

But he _does_ own the manor.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Battle hasn't been kind to the elder malfoy. As she assimilates the fatigue, and drained appearance behind that sharp feature. Being in a wheelchair must have been hard on those pure-blooded fallacy.

"Draco isn't home now."

Hermione frowns, "but he owled me…"

"He will be here shortly, just a few minutes."

The muteness afterwards not only adds to the restlessness, but also brings back gloomy memories she is incapable of forgetting even today.

Absentmindedly, her hand grips the wand, touching the scarred area hidden under her sleeve.

 _Mudblood._

"Are you afraid, Miss Granger?"

She must have been plentiful jumpy to give it away.

"Don't be. Though I don't blame you, _things changed_. I am not fit enough to take you, or anyone else on for that matter."

The lenience in her muscle is instinctive, since they both realize he is right.

"Are you here to know about the war?"

How _much_ does he know?

"I don't know what you are on about."

"Oh, but you do." Lucius sounds tranquil, and, and is that sympathy? " _You are so naive_."

Hermione stands on her feet.

"What do you know, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It's Draco."

She doesn't want to be baffled, but the abstract allegation compels her to be.

"I don't follow you."

"It's Draco, who is planning the war."

"But, _but_ he is the one informing…"

Things start clicking on her head.

His stare, his obstinacy, his warning…..

" _ **I can tell you who it is**_."

But if it were him, why would he disclose this to _her_ of all people?

" _ **Wouldn't you, the brightest witch of our age, wanna find out?"**_

To lure her out, _that bastard_.

"Stupefy."

* * *

Even before she opens her eyes, she knows she has messed up.

"Granger."

By believing him.

But the scene that meets her eyes is more horrendous.

She is not in her dress, but a green silk robe which reveals her modesty in revolting detail, on sheets that smell like him, hands tied by magical rope.

It should be a matter of time before she releases herself using the wand less magic.

"It's no use."

Every time she utters a spell, her body is put to an invisible restraint.

''You will only hurt yourself. This room is charmed. It is anti-enchanted to anybody who is _not_ a Malfoy."

He steps out from the shadow.

The alluring appeal of his face, doesn't enthrall but nauseate her, identifying the heartless intent his pitiless eyes transport.

"Had a good time with my father?"

She has been so, _so_ utterly blind.

"It was you from the start, wasn't it?"

He maliciously grins.

"Took you long enough. Poly juice _always_ comes in handy."

"Where is Mr. Malfoy? What did you do to him?"

"He is alive, for now." Until he does what he is required to, _old hopeless fool._

"Are you out of your mind?" She frantically thrashes ignoring the stinging pain of magic, no way will she give in. "Let me go! Malfoy!"

"I _love_ it when you scream."

He feels like a nightmare, his fierce touches, and his hungry kisses. His desperate urge that she tastes, is fanatical, and frightening.

Draco keeps seizing her lips and body with a feverish, savage force that simply terrifies Hermione.

"Stop! Stop it! _What the heck is wrong with you_!" She tries to bite his hands that cover her mouth. "You are gonna pay for this you bastard."

"Only if you can get out, from here."

She spits venom at his conceit, "my last apparition was to Malfoy manor, not hard to find, is it? Harry is gonna _kill_ you when he finds me…"

"We are in France, Granger."

She gawks. It cannot be. _No_.

"Don't look at me like that. I did apparate you as per the rules," he snickers, "side-apparition that is. And nobody knows about this place. _Nobody._ "

" _ **I have a villa in rural France. It's heavily warded, and concealed to the eyes of outsiders. Even your father doesn't know about it."**_

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

Hasn't he fought for the good in the war?

Draco leaves a wet trail on her throat and collarbone.

"Because my mother died. Because the Dark Lord didn't win. Because I lost my family. And _yet_ I don't have what Potter _does_."

Her bemusement is delicious.

"I don't have _you_."

"You will _never_ have me."

Gray orbs harden at the blazing brown ones.

"You might have managed to keep me here, but not for long. I _will_ find a way to stop you, and your sick games Malfoy. And when I do, _you will be sorry_."

Her wrathful contentment disappears when he utters the dreadful words.

"You know, I always wondered, what would happen if you were to be by my side, _by choice_?"

He was going to put an Imperious on her?

"You fucking bastard…"

"But that's no fun, since they will know you remember them anyway. In that case…"

Realization dawns, and it is so heavy that she forgets to breathe for a moment.

" _Don't you dare_."

Draco tastes the salty tears Hermione finally allows, panicked, and petrified.

"No! Malfoy no! Stop it! _Please no_!"

It will be the last time she would look at him with hatred.

 _You lose Potter, I win._

 _I win what I lost everything for._

"Obliviate."

* * *

 _ **The End.**_

 _ **Hello readers!**_

 _ **This is my first dramione fic here, not the first time writing though.**_

 _ **I have just given it a try to fulfill one of my many obsessions about Dark Draco.**_

 _ **Hopefully you will enjoy!**_


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